


Clint Barton's Family Christmas, Guest Starring Sam's Mama's Pecan Pie

by NightmareSparklePony



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Christmas Angst, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-02 15:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17266808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightmareSparklePony/pseuds/NightmareSparklePony
Summary: Clint's Family hosts Christmas again this year. Steve and Bucky start a new tradition.A mysterious figure watches the festivities.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of the Steve and Bucky's relationship from the "Ghosts of Christmas' Past" Series. I didn't plan to write another Christmas story but some ground work needed to be laid for another story. Also, I kind of wanted to see Clint's Family Christmas. I guess it's OK since I'm still receiving Christmas Cards.
> 
> ****Slight Spoilers from Avengers: Infinity War*****

I stare over the expanse of snow as I stand at the top of the ramp of the Quinjet. Anxiety builds in my chest as I study the structure a hundred r the expanse of snow as I stand at the top of the ramp of the Quinjet. Anxiety builds in my chest as I study the structure a hundred yards away. I'm not ready for this. It's too soon to face those awaiting inside. Steve is behind me, gathering our gear.

“It's going to be OK, Buck,” he says as he takes my right hand in his and gives a reassuring squeeze. “Come on. Clint's expecting us.”

“They don't know what I am, do they? How could they?” I reply, trying to keep my breath steady.

“Buck, look at me.” I follow Steve's direction and look into his eyes. “It's 2017. No one in that house is going to judge you for being bi-sexual. Hell, Clint's even open about it. When I came out to him, he told me all about the three-way he had with his ex and her new boyfriend.”

The indoctrination at an early age by the church and my father that being anything other than completely straight was unacceptable is still a part of my psyche, but that was not my real concern. “I'm talking about being a killer,” I say looking back down at the floor. “An assassin.”

Steve laughs. “With the exception of the kids and maybe Sam's mother, everyone in that house is a killer.”

“Clint's wife,” I struggle with her name for a second. “Laura?”

“Laura was a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent when she met Clint. For all we know, she's killed more people that all of us combined.”

All I can do is shake my head as Steve tugs my hand to lead me down the ramp. He notices me scanning the tree-line and whispers, “You can relax, Buck. Clint's paranoid about his family's privacy. He has booby traps set and Sam has the Redwing flying cover.” I grasp his hand more firmly, release the tension from my shoulders, and take a step down the ramp.

 

_**Through binoculars, I watch the two men walk hand in hand to the farmhouse. They are smiling and talking to each other, but once they reach the front porch the held hand is dropped so presents can be removed from a backpack. They enter the house and disappear from sight.** _

_**“Subjects are inside,” I say into the radio.** _

_**“Copy that,” Is the response from my partner.** _

 

“Steve! So happy you could make it this year,” a man with dirty blond hair says as he opens the door for us to enter.

Steve grabs the extended hand. “Thanks for the invitation, Clint.”

“Jame Barnes,” Clint says as he extends his hand which I take and shake, being careful to give just the right amount of pressure. “Good to see you again.” That's right. We'd met briefly before the fight in Germany.

“You can call me Bucky,” I say, forcing a smile and hope it doesn't look as awkward as it feels.

“It's great to officially meet you, Bucky,” Clint says as he slaps me on the shoulder. “Any friend of Caps is welcome here.”

At that point, two children come run into the room yelling, “Uncle Steve. Uncle Steve.” They jump up an down with excitement as they reach for Steve's backpack.

“Lila, Cooper! Show some manners,” a brunette holding a toddler yells from the doorway. “Sorry about that, Steve.” She pulls the kids away from him and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“Bucky, this is my wife. Laura,” Clint says. “Laura, this is Steve's friend, James Barnes.”

“Bucky,” I say softly, starting to feel myself become overwhelmed. This is dangerous. I'm not the type of person who should be allowed around young children.

“Nice to me you, Bucky,” She says, smiling. I then see a wordless exchange occur between Clint and herself. “Steve, come with me. I'll show you where to put those presents. You really shouldn't spoil them like that.”

“I'm glad I have a chance to talk to you,” Clint says once they are out of earshot. He leads me to the staircase and nods for me to sit down.

Here it comes I think. Clint politely telling me to leave. Smart man. “I'll go stay in the plane.” It's almost a relief.

“No,” Clint replies, surprised. “I'm not asking you to go. Look. Steve told me some of what you were going through. How you did things. Horrible things.” A pained look is in his eyes. “Things you had no control over.”

“That's why I should leave. I'm too dangerous.”

“I understand how you feel.” I look up at him. “A few years ago I had my mind taken over by an Alien. He made me...” Clint sits down to look me in the eye and continues, “I killed people. I would have killed my closest friend without hesitation.”

I hung my head. “I'm sorry,” I say. “So you understand why it's not safe for me to be around your family.”

“That's what I thought too. Once the fighting was over, I couldn't put it out of my mind. What I did. Every kill kept replaying over and over in my head.” Clint was talking softly now, almost in a whisper.

I nod my head. “Like on an endless loop.”

“I didn't dare go home. How could I bring that garbage back to my family?” Clint paused, then smiled. “Then Laura showed up. Honestly, I thought she was coming to tell me she was divorcing me. That I shouldn't come back home.”

“But she didn't,” I say, thinking of Steve. “She wouldn't give up on you.”

“Oh, she was the distraction. Next thing I knew there was a tranq-dart in my neck then I was back home on the farm.”

“Natalia?” I ask, remembering that it was her interference last Christmas that had brought Steve and I back together.

“Yeah. The two of them ganged up on me. At first, I was so pissed at them...then it hit me.”

“What did?”

“As angry as I was and as many outbursts I had,” Clint grabs me by the shoulder and squeezes. “I never hurt anyone. Never even came close.”

“But you always knew who you were...” I reply, hesitating to share a truth about myself out loud. “I sometimes get lost. I'm not me...I'm him.”

“But even then, you haven't hurt anyone have you?” Clint smiles.

I think back to last Christmas Eve. How angry I was at Steve, at Shuri for taking me out of cryo-freeze. When I punched the wall next to her head, Shuri looked frightened and I regretted that immediately. “I never want to hurt anyone ever again.

“That's good. Real good.” He smiles at me then continues, “Looks, you have two sides, hell if you're like the rest of us, probably more than two, Maybe you should stop fighting that fact and start accepting “him” as a part of yourself.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Maybe I should.” All this time I've been trying to carve the Winter Soldier out of my brain without success. Maybe it was time to start reconciling my two pasts and looking toward a future for both of us.

“Now, Come on,” Clint says as he grabs my hand and pulls me off the step. “I've got a mission for you. There's a pecan pie out there with my name on it, but if you find it first I'll give you the bigger half. Deal?”

“Deal,” I agree while thinking, aren't halves supposed to be equal?

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is sledding and there is cocoa. Also, there is pie.

“ _ **Anything?” I ask my partner who's watching the farmhouse from the opposite side of the clearing.**_

“ _ **Negative,” she replies. “No, wait. I have movement at the back door. Looks like they are headed up the hill. 2 o'clock.”**_

“ _ **Got em.” I watch as Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanov, and Steve Rogers climb the hill accompanied by the Barton children. Romanov is pulling the youngest up the hill on a plastic toboggan while Rogers is holding an oversized metal disc in his hand. It is painted to resemble his shield but is much bigger, designed for sliding down hillsides. Besides Captain America has given up his shield.**_

_**I hear Sam, through the built-in parabolic mic system in the binoculars, offer to take over “sled-dog” duty from Natasha which she allows in order to drop back to help the young girl make her way up the hill. Once at the top, the boy flops down onto his Flexible Flyer, Natasha, the girl, and the toddler take the toboggan, while Wilson rides down on the metal disc.** _

_**A lump forms in my throat as I whisper the word, “желание”**_. _**The longing to be with my family almost overwhelms me.**_

 

I make my way to the kitchen, mostly looking for Steve, but keeping an eye out for one of those pecan pies. When I hear to high pitched shriek from outside, I race to the window. Natasha and Barton's youngest child are sliding up the hill, pushing the snow over their heads. The toddler is squealing with delight. Puzzled, I step out onto the porch and spot Steve, atop the hill, pulling the sled and it's passengers with an attached rope. Evidently, “the man with the plan” has made himself into a ski lift. The temperature is over thirty degrees so Steve has taken off his coat so I can see his muscles rippling under one of those ridiculously tight tees he wears. He is laughing and smiling from ear to ear.

A memory floats through my mind. Sledding with my sisters. My mother greeting us at the door with mugs of hot chocolate. I used to make it for Steve whenever we were caught out in the snow and he became over chilled.

An idea hits me. I can make hot chocolate for Steve and the others to warm them when they came in from sledding. “Laura?” I call out, figuring I should get her permission before using her kitchen.

There is no answer. Instead, I hear muffled laughter and a woman say, “Come on, Clint. We need to make the most of the kids being occupied and out of the house.” Then a pair of footsteps races up the stairs.

“I guess I'm on my own,” I say to myself as I begin to gather my supplies. It's been a long time since I've made cocoa. As I'm rummaging in one of the higher cabinets, I spot it. A pecan pie. Carefully I pull down my prize and inhale deeply. Vanilla, maple, and something else...Bourbon?

“Young man,” a woman's voice says from behind me. “Just what do you think you're doing?”

Startled, I turn around so quickly, I almost drop the pie but she reaches out to help me steady it. I miss having a second arm at times like these.

“Sorry,” I mumble to the woman standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “I wanted to make cocoa and I found it in that cabinet.” She takes the pie out of my hand and places it on the kitchen table. Clint was going to be disappointed.

“It's fine, Honey,” she says. “I'm Darlene Wilson.” The Honorable Judge Darlene Wilson, US District Court, Southern District of New York as I recall. Perhaps bringing me here wasn't one of Steve's best ideas.

“I'm James,” I reply, extending my hand. “James Barnes. Good to meet you, Mrs. Wilson.”

She gets milk out of the refrigerator. “Call me Darlene.” I open another high cabinet that is beyond her reach and take down the cocoa. “Sam's told me all about you.”

“I'm sure not much of it was good.” Sam never has appeared to be one of my supporters.

“Actually most of it was good,” Darlene gets a pan from under the stove, pours some milk in it and turns on the gas. “He's told me what sort of trouble you were in and how you took responsibility for it, even though it sounds like not a whole lot of it was your fault.”

“Really?” I honestly thought Sam disliked me. Most of the time he was teasing me or getting on my last nerve just like my sisters did.

“Sam spent his time after coming back from the war helping people like you,” she says as I stir the pot of cocoa. “He told me once that most Vets need someone to listen to them but not to walk on egg-shells around them as everyone else does. They want people to treat them as normal and not as if they were broken.”

It occurs to me that none of Sam's teasing was mean-spirited, but of the type we all engaged in with our friends or comrades in arms. I feel ashamed for thinking the worst of Sam.

A wave of nostalgia rolls over me. “I used to help my mother make cocoa,” I say, almost to myself. I remember standing on a stool next to the stove stirring the cocoa while she made us a snack. That was before my father had lost the farm in Indiana and moved us all to New York to find work. My father never liked that I spend so much time with Mama, helping her cook and taking care of my sisters. He said it would make me soft, a “Mama's Boy.” That's why he started to take me to the gym. To teach me to fight. To toughen me up. I never really cared for boxing, never liked getting hit, especially in the face. But it served me well whenever I kept Steve from getting his ass kicked in every alley in Brooklyn. “I miss her. The last time I saw her was over seventy years ago, but to me, it only feels like five.”

“It must be hard,” she says as she gets down the mugs. “Coming home to having everyone gone.”

“Not everyone. I found out recently my youngest sister, Becca, was still alive when I....escaped.” It was still hard to explain what had happened that day on the hellicarrier. If I escaped from Hydra or Steve rescued me by getting through the brainwashing is very much up in the air. “She died a couple years ago. I never went to see her. She died thinking I didn't care, that I didn't love her.”

“You think you were in a position to go see her, even if you did remember?” Darlene says. “And didn't it occur to you that people would be watching her home, just waiting for you to show yourself?” I never thought of that. “She must have been overjoyed to see you were alive.” That makes me feel a little better, but I still wish I could have seen her at one more time. Find out what happened in her life, all their lives. To get to know her family...my family. But Darlene is right. Any member of my family could be used as leverage against me.

Darlene looks out the window. “Oh, look. Here they come.” She busies herself arranging the mugs and bringing down the marshmallows. A plate of cookies is placed in the middle of the table. “Sweetie, help me get these pies down?”

“Pies?”

“I learned my lesson last year. Clint and Sam practically tore this house apart looking for pecan pies so I promised Laura there'd not be any trouble this year.” Darlene starts spreading pies all over the kitchen table. They are all pecan but seem to have different markings on them.

“This one here, it has the Bourbon in it—that's Sam's favorite. That one over there—I tried something new. Made it with Vodka for Natasha.”

I see one that is darker than the rest and smell the hint of chocolate. That one must be Clint's or Steve's –though Steve was never much interested in sweets. “Who's that one for? The one with the chocolate?”

“That one is for you, Sugar. Your man insisted I make one with chocolate for you,” She answers with a smile.

“My man?”

“Yes, Steve. He is your man, isn't he?” she teases.

My cheeks feel warm as I shrug my shoulders noncommittally. It was still new to me, despite living for over a year in a country where any sexual identity or orientation was not only accepted but celebrated, that my relationship with Steve would be approved of so warmly. “Yes. I guess he is,” I reply with a smile.

Natasha comes in the door, holding Nate, followed by Sam and Cooper. Finally, Steve arrives, carrying Lila piggyback. I can't help staring at him. And smiling. This time the smile doesn't feel awkward at all.

“Hey,” he says as he puts down Lila. “What do we have here?”

“Cocoa, Pie..,” I stammer, feeling suddenly shy when our eyes meet. It occurs to me that I could kiss him hello, or he could wrap his arm around my waist as Sam is doing with Natasha, and no one would think twice about it.

“And Cookies!” Lila exclaims, tearing Steve's attention away from me. She leads him by the hand over to Darlene who is at the stove ladling cocoa into mugs.

Sam and Natasha are cutting small pieces of pie onto plates so everyone can sample some of each while Nate sits in his booster chair chewing on a sugar cookie. Cooper is trying to stuff a whole cookie into his mouth.

“Uncle Steve,” Lila orders. “You sit here, by me!”

Steve gives me a look which is half apology and half a plea to be rescued. I shrug my shoulders and grin. A hand grasps my shoulder from behind and Clint remarks, “Funny. I see pies. Where's my split?”

“Sorry,” I reply with a nod toward Darlene. “I got caught.”

“Oh, Don't listen to him, James.” Darlene says as she hands me some cocoa. “Clint found his pie and took it upstairs with Laura.”

“So that's what you were doing upstairs with Mama!” Cooper exclaims, spraying cookie crumbs over the table. “Eating pie!”

The adults all laugh. I catch Steve's eye and smile. Maybe next year we will be the one's to sneak our pie upstairs.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned on this chapter but since there was a promise of pies in the title, I had to add a chapter with pies.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets to know the youngest Barton.

_**There is no movement outside the farmhouse after the sledders go inside. Every once and a while I can see movement through the curtains in the living room around the tree.** _

“ _ **Any changes?” asks the voice on the radio.**_

“ _ **Nothing noticeable,” I reply.**_

“ _ **Good. We are still on track.”**_

 

After sampling all the pies, and debating their merits, the verdict is that the bourbon pie was superior. “Still liked the chocolate the best,” I mumble under my breath as I take a stack of plates to the sink.

“Well, if you'd let me get another taste like I asked,” Steve whispers in my ear. “Maybe I would have been in a better position to judge.” He had moved in to taste my lips, but I intercepted him with a forkful of pie. Public displays of affection are still out of my comfort zone. Even in Wakanda, I am unable to hold Steve's hand in public. It is silly, I know, considering Steve has told everyone here that we are together as a couple. We went on our first official date on Steve's birthday, thrilling Shuri to no end. 

Steve starts rinsing off the dishes and motions for me to put them in the dishwasher. The modern conveniences never cease to amaze me. As I'm waiting for the next plate, I feel a pull on the leg of my jeans and look down to find Barton's youngest looking up at me.

“Mr. Bunky,” he says with an earnest look on his face. “What happened to your arm?” Out of the corner of my eye I see Steve stiffen.

“Nathanial Phillip Barton,” exclaims Laura from the doorway. “What did I tell you about asking personal questions like that?”

“That it's rude?” Nathanial replies with a chastened look. “I'm sorry, Bunky.”

“It alright, kid,” I say with a smile as I take a plate from Steve and put it in the dishwasher. There is another pull on the leg of my jeans.

“Mr. Bunky. Will you please tell me what happened to your arm?” Nathanial says sincerely. “Did it fall off?”

“For Pete's sake, Nate,” Laura exclaims. “Bucky. I'm sorry. I really don't know where he learned to be so rude.”

“I said please, Mama,” Nate says sounding confused.

“My money's on Natasha,” Steve whispers with a worried smile.

“It's OK. Really.” By the way they are reacting you'd think I didn't know I was missing an arm. And if I'd learned anything from my time in Wakanda it's that kids are curious and find anything different fascinating. I kneel down so I am eye level with the little boy and tell him, “I lost it in a war. A long time ago.” That is the truth. My arm, the one I was born with, was lost decades ago. The one The Winter Soldier had carried all those years and I had lost last year was never mine. Never really a part of me.

“In Afganstan?” Nate asks. 

“Афганистан,” I correct him in Russian, as that is how I knew the country. “Afghanistan. No. I lost it long before then.”

“My friend Trevor's dad lost his arm in Afghanstan. His leg too. But he has a plastic arm and a really cool blade on his foot when he runs,” Nate excitedly tells me. “You could get a plastic arm too if you wanted, I bet.”

“Maybe. It is certainly something to think about.” The unfairness of the situation reinforces my decision to refuse the vibranium arm Shuri created for me in Wakanda. Why should a person who has done the horrible things I have be more deserving than a man who served his country with honor? If Trevor's father is not entitled to more than a plastic arm, what right do I have to receive a state of the art, fully functional vibranium one. Even the monstrosity the Russians created for me was more advanced than what is available for current amputees.

“Does it hurt?” Nate asks causing Laura to roll her eyes to the ceiling.

“No. Not anymore,” I reply truthfully. There had been much less pain in my body since Stark had removed the arm, though the initial separation had been agonizing. Shuri was responsible for that. After she discovered the anchors attached through out my body and had a team of surgeons remove them, I was relatively pain free. “It sometimes itches though.”

“Really? Even though it's not there?” Nate laughs. “That's weird.”

I smile at the boy. “Yes. It is kind of weird,” I agree, noticing that Steve seems to have relaxed and has a dopey grin on his face.

“Well it's time for someone to take their nap,” Laura says as she swoops Nathanial in her arms.

“But Mom,” he whines. “I was talking to Bunky. Trevor's dad has a dog helper. Maybe you should get a dog to help you.”

“Oh, I have a big ol golden retriever named Steve,” I say. Steve comes from behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. I feel uncomfortable but allow it.

“And I have a shaggy haired mutt name Bucky,” he tells the child.

“Next time you should bring them with you,” the boys tells us. “And they need new names so they don't get confused with the people Steve and Bunky.”

“I never thought of that,” I remark. “Now we're going to have to get some dogs?” I whisper to Steve.

“Come on, Cowboy. Steve and Bucky will be here when you get up. You can talk to him at dinner,” Laura says as she carries the boy out the kitchen.

I yawn. “I think I'll be needing a nap myself before dinner.” Due to the serum, Steve could go days without more than a cat nap here or there. Though blood tests show no major differences between our serums, I require more sleep. Shuri theorized it is because I spent my time in cryo-sleep between missions. If out for too long on an extended mission, I would become erratic. Most likely because memories of who I really was would resurface. Nowdays, I get cranky if I don't get enough sleep and naps are a must when faced with stressful situations.

I see Lila glaring at me from the doorway as Steve whispers in my ear, “Would you like me to join you?”

I step away from his embrace and nod toward Lila, “I think you have other plans.”

“Come on, Steve,” She demands as she grabs his hand. “Dad has the targets all set up and you promised to watch me shoot with my new bow.”

Steve gives me a look which says, “Save me” but I just shake my head. It is for the best. Though we fall asleep in each others arms often when watching TV, lately I find my body on edge with my nerves on fire wherever his body is touching mine if we lay down together to nap. Therapy has taught me that the return of my libido is all part of the healing process and as much as I enjoy making out with Steve, if I want to be a good house guest, I can't afford to be tired and erratic at the dinner table. Besides, being in someones home may stir uncomfortable memories up in me and I'd hate if it caused me to lose control.

“I'll show you to your room, Bucky,” Laura says as I pull my backpack over my shoulder and grab Steve's duffle bag.

She stops at the first door on the second floor and deposits the now sleeping Nate in the lower bed of the bunk. The room is painted blue with red stars. The trim below the ceiling is a repetitive pattern of Captain America's shield. There is a futon with a large Captain America throw over it. “Wow,” I say, impressed. “There's quite a bit of hero worship going on here.”

Laura closed the door quietly. “Actually, it's Steve they worship. They don't quite understand why he is no longer Captain America.”

“I'm not sure I do either.” She leads me down the hall-way to a large room at the end.

“Sure you do,” She says as she gestures me in. “He did it for you.”

“Like I told him. I'm not sure I'm worth all this trouble.”

“You are to him. And if you matter to him. You matter to us. All of us.” Laura gestures to the closet. “You can put your bags in there. And there's an attached bath as well.”

Suddenly it occurs to me that Laura must think Steve and I are sharing a bed. A bolt of panic runs through me as I realized this may have been Steve's plan all along. That he hadn't given up on our old tradition after all. “We don't...We're not,” I stammer.

Noticing my panic Laura gently places her hand on my arm. “Steve told us that you two slept in separate rooms. He's spending the night with Coop and Nate on the futon. I just don't want the kids to go through his bags. For some reason they are real snoops.”

I take a deep breath, unable to hide my relief. “Just in case you don't know, Steve will do anything to help you feel safe, Bucky,” Laura says as she leaves the room. “He's one of the good ones.”

I'm such an idiot. Why do I suspect the worse from Steve? Since I've been out of cryo freeze he's been a saint. He's gone to therapy for himself and come with me to see a therapist to help sort through our relationship. If anything, he's been more hesitant than me since our relationship became physical. I can trust him. The problems we had in the past are literally a life time ago and he's definitely learned his lesson.

Laying down in the bed, I take a deep breath and concentrate on clearing my mind. No good comes from blaming myself for suspecting Steve of less than pure intentions. Hydra used the trigger words to ensure thinking of Steve would traumatize me. We both need to forgive ourselves for the things we had no control over and concentrate on the future. As I drift off to sleep, I regret no asking Steve to join me. It would be nice to be wrapped in his arms.

 

_**Rogers, Barton, and the two oldest children are at the homemade shooting range. Of course Barton is perfect, impressing the children with the wildest of trick shots. Cooper is better than most children his age but it is obvious that Lila is a prodigy when it comes to the bow. Though he is smiling, Rogers appears distracted despite Lila's near constant pleas for him to watch her perform her next shot.** _

_**I see Wilson and Romanov walking towards the tree line, hand in hand. My parter is very good, however. She'll easily be able to avoid detection though they will pass close to her hiding spot. It would be disastrous if Romanov discovers her as it would compromise all the hard work we have done on our mission. Maybe the chances we are taking here are not worth it, but only selfishness on our part.** _

_**I pull out a thermos of coffee to warm myself. It won't be much longer. Once the sun goes down, we will get the information we came here for. “Just a few more hours,” I whisper to myself.** _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it interesting that Bucky doesn't have an arm until T'Challah brings him one in Infinity War. My feeling is that he doesn't want one, maybe doesn't think he deserves one. The arm Bucky lost in Siberia wasn't his; that arm belongs to the Winter Soldier. Just my take on it.

**Author's Note:**

> A plug for Chelsea Cain's 2016 comic series Mockingbird-It's fabulous. I love Bobbi Morse! Spoiler Alert: It does however make Clint's three-way I mentioned in this work canon in the comics.
> 
> Laura being an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. is not canon, to my knowledge. I just liked the idea and that she would use her skills to help Natasha kidnap Clint from Avengers Tower.


End file.
